Chapter Eighteen
Iryana could just make out Karvek’s shape, a smudge against the pale gray sky, when he dropped over the edge of the roof. She could still hear the commotion from the guards and soldiers as they dealt with the fire in the stables.
Iryana hurried after and peered down at the balcony he must have landed on, a warm light emanating from within. She lowered herself down, wincing at the thud of her feet on the slick wooden floor. Crouching to stay out of sight, she clung to the sides of the open door, straining to hear.
Everything was quiet inside, so Iryana peered in.
She found a huge bedroom with low ceilings and woven rugs covering the floor.
It had to be the general’s. Shadows bathed the corners of the room, while a large, ornate canopy bed was washed in light coming from another door.
She couldn’t see into the farther room; the door was barely open.
But everything was still, and she couldn’t see anyone, so Iryana crept further in.
As Iryana moved, careful to stay in the shadows, following the trail of wet footprints Karvek must have left.
.. she knew she should turn back and leave.
But she couldn’t pull herself away. It had been days of questions, and there was so much on the line.
She needed to know that her efforts had been worth it.
Had Karvek gotten to the general in time? Would they manage a peaceful transfer of power? Or would the faction of soldiers trying to take over resort to violence when Karvek’s soldiers came to back him up, despite an official order? There were too many unknowns.
Iryana peeked into the other room to find a man crouched in front of a fireplace.
Iryana didn’t recognize him, but he looked older, dark hair streaked with gray. His clothes were fine, but simple. Around his middle, he wore a red belt, the color of a general. His body was in contrast to his age—he looked strong, capable.
He looked healthy.
A wave of confusion, of recalculation, started to sweep over her. Were they already too late? Had someone already taken over as general?
A soft creak had Iryana’s eyes darting to where another figure slipped into view. Karvek. He crept toward the man, so far unseen. Lithe in a way that his height wouldn’t have suggested. There was a readiness to his posture. Undeniable intent. What madness had overtaken Karvek?
Iryana could do nothing but watch.
If Karvek killed the usurping general, he’d have to fight to regain control of the fort.
Enough soldiers had come with them, she realized.
He’d been prepared for that. For being too late.
If he failed, Iryana could try to help—but was she prepared to kill a man for Karvek?
Even in the interest of helping her family?
And if it wasn’t a usurping general that Karvek was sneaking up on…
Before she could decide what to do, Karvek reached out, and a curved, metal-forged sword formed in his hand. It was impossibly dark.
Iryana froze as her heart beat faster. She stared at the blade, unable to wrap her mind around what was happening.
The floorboards creaked again, and this time the man must have heard. He bolted upright, turning to face Karvek.
His face twisted into surprise, and Iryana saw tanned, aged skin, rough stubble covering a square jaw. He didn’t look like anyone special; just the type of face Iryana would picture if someone was talking about their uncle.
Karvek moved toward him, and the man reached out—but before any of his magic could form, Karvek drove his sword upwards into the center of the man’s torso.
Iryana stiffened, eyes widening. Karvek wrapped his arm around the man as if in an embrace, holding him close. His hand clamped over the man’s mouth, muffling the groans. Iryana did nothing but watch as the man tried to push against Karvek, slowly crumpling. Karvek lowered with him.
Iryana did nothing.
“You made a joke of my father’s legacy,” Karvek seethed, his voice like ice. “You are too soft to stand in his place.”
Those words caught Iryana’s attention, but she couldn’t focus on the fact that Karvek had lied to her. Couldn’t focus on anything but the man’s face. Anything else Karvek said was drowned out by the sound of Iryana’s own heart beating.
The man stopped moving, his eyes blankly staring up at Karvek.
She knew men killed each other, but she had never seen it before. When dakii killed, it was ferocious, wild but impersonal. The frozen look on the man’s face spoke of betrayal.
The scene was so still, as if they were all trapped in that horrific moment that was never going to end.
Then Karvek opened his hand, his magic rushing back under his skin, and the man began to bleed. Red poured out of his chest and onto the thick woven rug. The puddle grew until Karvek was kneeling in it, the crimson leaching up his pants.
Karvek had killed the general. She had helped him kill someone, stage a coup. Her breaths were turning to gasps, and she couldn’t make them slow down.
Iryana’s hand slowly rose until it was covering her mouth. What had she done?
She backed away, finally realizing how bad it would be if Karvek found her there. He could never know what she saw. What she knew.
Karvek’s head snapped toward the far door. There were noises coming from deeper in the keep and Iryana felt dread rise in her. They were taking Midmarket by force, weren’t they?
She tried to piece it together—which part was lies and which the truth—but her mind felt sluggish. This was related to Karvek’s father. Vaneshta had told her about him. He had been in charge of the brigade. Karvek just killed his father’s successor.
Karvek started turning back toward Iryana, but she was frozen. Unable to move. Unable to process. He would see her if he took one more step forward… and she still wasn’t moving.
Just before Karvek would have seen her, Iryana was yanked to the side. A hand clamped over her mouth.
“Don’t make a sound, or he’ll find you.”
Her whole body surged into action, pushing out with her magic shield and shoving the hand away from her. She couldn’t call for help; she couldn’t let Karvek find her. Don’t make a sound, or he’ll find you—Iryana processed those words as she spun, facing the man hiding in the shadows with her.
Pyetar glared at her, water running in rivulets down his face. He must have just come inside, but how did he know where to find them? Had Pyetar been following them the whole time? Or was he here for the same reason as Karvek?
Perhaps they were working together more closely than she had thought.
Or perhaps Pyetar wanted to take over the brigade, too, and Karvek had beaten him to it?
Iryana pulled her magic back in. She could hear Karvek’s boots against the floor, coming closer. She needed to hide. Pyetar pulled her back toward the balcony, looking urgently toward the other room.
Not having a better idea, Iryana followed.
After slipping outside, they both pressed against the exterior wall of the keep, arms pressed together in the small space.
She worried Karvek would come out onto the balcony, that he would notice the extra footprints on the floor, but Pyetar stayed still and he seemed to know what was happening far better than she.
Through the steady roar of the storm, she could hear people shouting. It was all around them.
It felt like ages before Pyetar spoke.
“I don’t know why the fuck you’re here, but you need to leave. Now.” Pyetar’s voice was just a whisper, but it was sharp enough to cut. “You don’t want to be anywhere near this.”
The rain was falling just in front of their faces, a wet mist blowing onto their skin as the wind tried to sludge through the downpour. She could almost pretend nothing existed past that barrier, but if she moved, she knew it would all become too real.
Iryana wanted to argue with him, to let the familiar anger rise and settle the clashing thoughts wreaking havoc inside her. But Iryana had seen the look on Karvek’s face. She had seen the blood, and he hadn’t wanted her to. She needed to leave. He could never find out.
A twining vine of betrayal and disappointment burrowed inside her.
“He can’t know I was here,” she whispered, though not specifically to Pyetar.
“I don’t want to know how you got out here, how you followed him this far.” He sounded frustrated but distracted, like he was warring with too many things in his mind at that moment. “I don’t know what idiocy came over you to follow him, but—damn are you lucky.”
He didn’t know she’d come with his brother, then. Pyetar had been away from the fort during Iryana’s nightly meetings with Karvek, so did he not know about them either? He would soon.
Pyetar reached over, grabbing her arm. “You can’t tell anyone I was here, do you understand? You can’t tell anyone.”
“Why would I keep your secrets?” she demanded.
“Because if you don’t, I won’t keep yours.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but what could she say? Holding one of Pyetar’s secrets over him was perhaps the closest she could get to trusting him, and she needed to trust that he would keep hers. She couldn’t let Karvek discover what she had seen. She needed to get far away from there.
“Why are you here?” she asked, hoping for some hint of what was going on before she left. “Are you helping your brother with this?”
He watched her for a moment, eyes tightening. “No.”
“Then why didn’t you stop Karvek from killing that man—he was the general, right?”
“I was too late.”
Too late for what? “But—”
“Be grateful I saved your life. My brother would have killed you if he had found you in there. This is what I was talking about. Why you don’t belong here,” he seethed.
She bristled. Admitting that any of what Pyetar had said was right chafed, but she had seen Karvek’s face as he killed his superior. Knew the fear in her heart too well to ignore it. She was wrong about him.
“Why are you helping me?”